Chapter 8
LOCHLAN
I shouldn’t be here.
It’s almost nine o’clock. The office building was mostly dark when I looked up at it from the sidewalk below.
There were just a few lights scattered across the upper floors.
The security guard at the front desk gave me a suspicious look when I walked inside, but the name Molloy opens doors. Even doors that should stay closed.
I spent the last three hours at the gym, trying to beat the restlessness out of my body. It didn’t do shit. Then I drove around the city for another hour, telling myself I was just clearing my head.
I ended up here.
The elevator takes me up to the tenth floor. Her floor.
I don’t know why I came here, tonight of all nights. I tried to convince myself it was to go over last-minute details for the wedding and make sure she hadn’t changed her mind.
The truth is simpler. And more pathetic.
I just wanted to see her.
The reception area is empty. The overhead lights dimmed. But there’s a glow coming from the corner office at the end of the hall.
I walk down the hallway, my footsteps echoing on the marble floor. The walls are lined with awards, magazine covers, and framed articles. A shrine to everything she’s built, all of her successes. Everything she’s accomplished without anyone’s help.
And tomorrow, she ties herself to my family. To my father’s empire of blood and corruption.
No wonder she can’t sleep.
Although I’d expect nothing less from this woman. Of course she’s still here, working the night before her wedding.
I knock on the open door. Adriana looks up from her laptop, and for a split second, something flickers across her face. Surprise, maybe. Or annoyance. Her expressions are usually stoic and damn hard to read.
“Lochlan.” She leans back in her chair and tosses a pen on the desk. “This is unexpected.”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
“At nine o’clock at night. On the tenth floor of my building.”
“What can I say? I’m committed.”
Her lips twitch. Almost a smile. Again. Hell, yeah, I’ll take it. I bite back my own smile.
“What do you want?” she asks.
Good question. If only I had a good answer.
“Just wanted to check in,” I say, stepping into the office and looking around. An aura of luxury and power commands the space. I can feel it everywhere I look, from the expensive décor to the priceless works of art hanging on the walls. “And make sure you weren’t having second thoughts.”
“Would it matter if I was?”
“Probably not. The contract’s signed.”
“Then why ask?”
I shrug and drop into the chair across from her desk. “Seemed polite.”
She stares at me for a long moment. I can see the exhaustion in her posture. The shadows under her eyes she’s tried to cover with makeup. The tension in her shoulders that hasn’t eased since the night of the gala.
“You look tired,” I say.
“Wow, you’re a charmer. Aren’t I lucky?”
“I’m not trying to be charming. I’m stating a fact.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “When’s the last time you slept?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“We’re getting married tomorrow. Your well-being is about to become very much my business.”
“My wellbeing is my concern. Not yours.”
“Okay.”
She blinks, balking at that. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.” I sit back. “You want to run yourself into the ground, that’s your call. I’m just saying you don’t have to.”
Something shifts in her expression. For a fraction of a second, she loses that hard, jagged edge just enough for me to see the fear swirling beyond the facade.
“I briefed my leadership team today,” she says.
“And told them about the marriage. The news has reported that there will be a wedding, but nobody knows about the circumstances, other than my assistant. I just told them we’d been dating for a few months and decided to move quickly because of the attack. Life being too short and all that.”
He nods. “How’d that go?”
“About as well as you’d expect. I got a lot of concerned looks. Polite questions about my ‘bandwidth.’” A sharp laugh slips from her lips. “I’m pretty sure they think I’m losing my mind or that I’m lying. Maybe both.”
“Are you?”
“Jury’s still out,” she says dryly.
I watch her. The way her eyes keep darting to her laptop, then to the stack of files on her desk, and finally to the phone that hasn’t stopped buzzing since I walked in.
“What are you really worried about?” I ask.
She throws her hands into the air. “Everything.”
“Narrow it down.”
She heaves a deep sigh. “My company. My reputation. Everything I’ve built.
” She gestures at the office, the view, the empire she’s carved out for herself.
“The second my name is linked to yours, all of this is at risk. People will look at me differently. Clients will have questions. Competitors will smell blood.”
“You think marrying me makes you weak?”
“I think marrying you makes me a target.”
“You were already a target. The night of the gala proved that,” I say.
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“That was my father’s world. Not mine.” She stands up and walks to the window. Her reflection stares back at her, like a ghost in the darkness against the city lights. “I spent twenty-two years keeping distance between that world and this one. Tomorrow, that’s over.”
I get up and cross the room so that we’re close. Not too close. Just close enough.
“You’re not tearing anything down,” I say. “You’re adapting. That’s what you do.”
“You don’t know what I do,” she scoffs, folding her arms over her chest, her chin tilting upward.
“I know enough. From your Bloomberg profile, the many Harvard Business Review interviews. That podcast where you talked about your first failed pitch.” I shrug at the shock seeping into her features. “I told you. I read everything. Listened to everything, too.”
“Hmmm, stalk much?” she asks.
I shrug. “Well, stalking as you call it, is just my way of being prepared for anything. In my line of work, it’s the only way to survive.
I like to be a step ahead of anyone who might cross my path.
It keeps everyone safe.” My lips lift. “But in this case, I’m thinking I might need to be about ten steps ahead to at least level the playing field. ”
She just narrows her eyes. “Reading articles isn’t the same as knowing someone.”
“No. It’s not.” I inch forward, noting she doesn’t back away.
“But I know you walked into that negotiation meeting ready to tear me apart. I know you didn’t back down from my father, even when most people would have folded.
I know you’re standing here at nine o’clock the night before your wedding, still working, because the idea of not being in control terrifies you more than anything else. ”
Her jaw tightens. “You think you’ve got me figured out.”
“I think I’m starting to. And I think you’re not as complicated as you want people to believe.”
“That’s either an insult or a compliment.”
“Take it however you want.”
She almost smiles. Almost.
“And what about you?” She fully turns away from the window to face me. “What’s your deal, Lochlan? Why are you really here?”
I could lie. Give her some bullshit reason about logistics, about making sure everything’s in order.
But she asked me to never lie to her. And I’m already lying about too much.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I just… wanted to see you.”
Something flickers in her eyes. Surprise… and something else. Something I can’t quite name.
“That’s not a very strategic answer,” she says.
“Not everything has to be strategic.”
“In my experience, everything is strategic. Especially with the Molloy family.”
“I’m not my father,” I say, my voice sharpening like a blade at the mere mention of him.
“You keep saying that. But I’ve only known you for a week. Hours, really. Words are easy. Anyone can say them.”
“Then watch what I do. That’s all I’m asking.”
She doesn’t respond. Just studies me with those penetrating eyes.
Fair enough. I wouldn’t believe me either, if I were in her position.
“What happened?” I ask. “To make you so suspicious?”
She holds my gaze then turns back to the window. “Life. My dad’s world. This world. The things I’ve seen people do to each other in the name of power, money, and family. Trust is a liability. I learned that a long time ago.”
“And your father? You trusted him.”
Her jaw tightens. “I thought I did. Then I found out about the contract.”
“That’s fair,” I say. “But not everyone’s playing the same game your father is. Or mine.”
“You’re sure about that?” She lifts an eyebrow, disbelief twisting her expression.
“No.” I say it firmly. “I’m not.”
She studies me. Looking for the lie. Looking for the angle.
She won’t find it. Not because it’s not there, but because I’ve gotten too good at hiding it.
“Look,” I say. “I’m not going to stand here and promise you everything’s going to be fine. I don’t know that for sure. Neither do you. But I can promise you this. I’m not here to take over your life. I’m not going to get in the way of your company. I’m not going to try to control you.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“Whatever you need.” The words come out before I can stop them from hitting air.
“You want me to stand next to you at public events and keep my mouth shut? Done. You want me to stay out of your way and let you run your business? Done. You want me to punch someone who’s giving you trouble? ” I smirk. “Also done. Happily.”
For a long moment, neither of us speak.
“Why?” she asks finally. “Why do you care what I need?”
Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because you’re the first person in years who’s made me feel something other than numb. Because when you almost smiled at me in that negotiation meeting, I felt like I’d finally won something worth winning.
But I don’t say any of that.
“Because we’re about to be stuck together,” I say instead. “And I’d rather be allies than enemies.”
“Allies.”
“Yeah.”
“Allies share information,” she says slowly. “They don’t keep secrets.”
Guilt twists in my gut. The secret I’m keeping about the gala and my father’s part in the whole thing sits between us like a ticking time bomb.
“Agreed,” I say. The lie burns my tongue.
“And allies have each other’s backs. Even when it’s inconvenient.”
“Especially when it’s inconvenient.”
She nods. Slowly. Like she’s making a decision.
“Okay,” she says. “Allies. For now.”
“For now,” I agree.
She extends her hand. I take it. Her grip is firm. Warm. She holds on a second longer than necessary, and I feel her pulse jump against my fingers.
She pulls away first and clears her throat.
“You should go,” she says. “It’s late. And tomorrow—”
“Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
“Yes.”
I head for the door but stop with my hand on the frame before I leave.
“Hey, Adriana.”
She looks at me, and for once, her dark eyes don’t lance me like flaming daggers.
“Whatever happens tomorrow, just remember you’re not alone in this. I know it doesn’t feel that way, but you’re not.”
Her expression shifts. The walls don’t come down, exactly. But they thin. Just a little.
“Goodnight, Lochlan.”
“Goodnight.”
I walk out of her office and down the hall, past the awards and the magazine covers. I stab the Down button next to the elevator and step inside once the doors open.
I lean against the wall and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as the doors close.
Allies. That’s what I promised her. That’s what I’m supposed to be.
But the information I’m keeping makes me something else entirely.
A liar. A traitor. A man who knew her father was going to be shot and did nothing to stop it.
Tomorrow, I’m going to stand in front of a judge and promise to honor her. To be her partner. Her husband.
And I’m already breaking that promise.
The elevator hits the ground floor. I walk through the lobby, past the security guard who’s pretending not to watch me, and out into the balmy night air.
I shove my hands in my pockets and head for my truck where I parked it down the block.
My phone buzzes and I pull it out. A text message from Gavin lights up the screen.
You good?
I type back.
Yeah. Just thinking.
About tomorrow?
About everything.
Don’t overthink any of it. You’ll make yourself crazy.
Too late for that.
I pocket my phone and slide behind the wheel.
I think about Adriana. About the way she looked standing at that window, trying so hard to hold it all together. About the fear she’s hiding behind that mask of perfection.
She’s strong. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.
But even the strongest people have breaking points.
And when the truth comes out… not if, when… I’m going to be hers.
I pull away from the curb. The city lights glitter around me, indifferent to the mess I’ve made of my life.
Tomorrow, I marry Adriana DiMicheli.
Tomorrow, I become her ally. Her partner. Her husband.
And tomorrow, the clock starts ticking on the truth unraveling.
Because secrets don’t stay buried forever. Sooner or later, they claw their way to the surface.
It’s inevitable.